


Next Story

by delta_capricorni



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Other, Pre-Time Skip, more like pre-pre-time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_capricorni/pseuds/delta_capricorni
Summary: As the highlands gave way to a foreign landscape filled with temperate forests, however, the self-proclaimed Master Tactician soon realized that he had made a terrible mistake.It was cold. No, that was an understatement. Khalid wasfreezing.[au about khalid's first journey from almyra to derdriu! -- for the prompts of gift-giving & acts of service for @claudelethzine ;3]
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Kudos: 32





	Next Story

“Hey, kid. You awake? We've got a new mission out in the Alliance.”

“Mrfgh.”

“It’s an escort mission, just for the forest between Fódlan’s Throat and Derdriu. The requester is anonymous, but they've paid upfront, and quite a hefty sum at that. Well, it’s not like we have anything else lined up, I suppose.”

Byleth rolled over and rubbed their eyes. Jeralt sat at the foot of their makeshift bed—more of a thick rug on the ground—inspecting an exquisitely bejeweled silk bag. A small scroll of parchment fluttered to the ground, which Byleth lazily reached for and unrolled.

“These gold nuggets are certainly the real deal. Oh, here’s a misshapen one. Cute.”

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“There’s a postscript here. It says under no circumstances are we to make any visual or verbal contact with the client. But we’ll recognize him once he leaves the fort at Fódlan’s Throat.”

“Let me see.” Jeralt squinted at the fine calligraphy. “Huh. That’s a new one. It’s as if we’re being asked to act like this guy’s fairy godmothers or something.”

Byleth watched their dad crack a smile for them both. “When do we leave?”

Jeralt rose to his feet with a groan. “Soon as possible. Don’t want to keep our little prince waiting.”

Sluggishly Byleth crawled out from bed, shivering in the winter morning, and began packing. The misshapen gold piece, Byleth picked off the floor and stuck into their pocket. They’d find a use for it.

\---

At age 16, Khalid had weathered more than his fair share of life-or-death situations. From accidents such as falling off wyverns to assassination attempts disguised as such accidents, he was sure he’d lived through it all. When his mother sent him to reclaim an ancestral land he’d never experienced—whether it was a cold-hearted gambit to seize vital Fódlan territory or a politically expedient form of protection against his Almyran kin vying for the throne, he’d never know—he figured he could handle it easily enough. Crossing Fódlan’s Throat, he was more enamored with glimpsing the mighty General Holst in action than he was afraid of the arrows and fireballs flying every which way. Soon enough, he figured, he’d arrive in Derdriu, and everything would fall into place.

As the highlands gave way to a foreign landscape filled with temperate forests, however, the self-proclaimed Master Tactician soon realized that he had made a terrible mistake.

It was cold. No, that was an understatement. Khalid was _freezing_.

How could this have happened? He’d studied all the maps and confirmed that the capitals of Almyra and the Leicester Alliance lay on the exact same latitude. Almyra was hot and dry right now. Why was Fódlan so different? He’d never felt cold that burned his skin and chilled his very bones. Was it some sort of mountainous rain shadow effect? He regretted ignoring his Almyran meteorology treatises, having shunned them for Fódlanese alchemy tomes instead.

He’d been instructed to travel solo. His mother had left him with mysterious parting words: “Stick to the forest path. Don’t take off your mask until you reach Derdriu. Never speak Almyran. But someone will watch over you.” At the time he’d figured it was her attempt at motherly affection, something that she herself had lacked as a child, so Khalid had brushed it off. Now, shivering alone in a completely foreign land, bearing only a loose Alliance-style gentleman’s outfit, a portable tent and light blanket, and a dagger strapped to his calf, maybe he missed her after all. Just a little bit.

Then again, she’d grown up in the Leicester Alliance! How could she possibly have neglected to tell him about the cold? Khalid gritted his chattering teeth and strode on. That was all he could do right now.

A looming forest crested over a hill. At least he was on the right track. Should he set up camp and try to eat something before his limbs all froze off? Or should he keep moving to stay warm? Actually, what could he possibly eat? Don’t most animals in temperate biomes hibernate in the winter? Or would they be extra alert in the stillness of winter, evading his attempts to hunt them, or sneaking up on him in the dead of night? Were there any edible fruits or roots?

Something rustled ahead, halting his racing thoughts. He brandished his dagger. Nothing appeared. He’d read plenty of Fódlanese tales of lions twice the size of adult humans and two-headed eagles that plucked your eyes out. Would “sticking to the path” prevent them from eating him?

Khalid steeled himself. _Framing_ , he reminded himself. It wasn’t that he was targeted for political assassination; he’d survived and become stronger. It wasn’t that he was offering himself to Fódlanese forest beasts like a readymade meal; he was simply going on a journey of self-discovery. Yeah.

Off he went into the forest, praying to the stars above that someone indeed was watching over him.

\---

“Are you kidding me?” Jeralt muttered. “This wasn’t in the job description at all.”

The mercenary pair studied the figure trudging up the hill. They’d camped out for a week in the forest, memorizing its topography and cataloguing natural hazards. But they hadn’t prepared for this.

“What do you mean?” Byleth tilted their head. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Jeralt rubbed a hand through his hair. “Look at how he’s dressed. He’s going to freeze overnight if we don’t do something… Wait, what are you—”

“He needs it more than I do.” Byleth shed their thick overcoat and folded it. “I’ll make do.”

“Kid, you can’t complete a mission if you’re dead.” Jeralt stared them down, but they kept their expression neutral as always. Then a slight shiver wracked their entire body.

“I’ll make do,” they repeated, and shuffled into the forest. Jeralt was about to call after him when he brushed against and broke a large branch. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy freeze like a deer. With a sigh, he himself remained completely still, allowing Byleth to proceed alone. Whatever they were thinking, he’d never really know.

\---

“…and then she said, ‘That’s all for today.’ The vizier cried out, ‘What? But I want to know what happens next!’ The princess replied, ‘Well, I’m quite tired, so I won’t be able to tell the story well. You must wait until tomorrow.’ And that was how she saved her life for another day.”

Khalid had occupied himself by reciting aloud one of his favorite stories. To practice spoken Fódlanese, he even retold the multifarious stories embedded within. It was as much to pass the time as to shake the eerie feeling that something was indeed watching his every move. If he was going to become somebody’s meal, at least he’d try to entertain them first.

Though the sun hadn’t fully set the cold of night was creeping up upon him. Should he make a torch and keep going, or pitch his tent and set up a campfire? What if he burned down the entire forest? There were no forests in Almyra, so he had no idea how hardy the trees were. Maybe they were the kind whose seeds only germinated by the heat of fire? So he’d be doing them a favor by burning down the forest. And it’d clear the path of any beasts, too—

Wait. Was he hallucinating, or was that a coat on that stump? And a nice pile of dry branches and twigs. And the bloody mass next to it… was that freshly cut meat? There wasn’t a skeleton or hide in sight.

Khalid laid down his travel pack and crept forward. This could be a trap, or a test. He sniffed the meat: it was fresh venison, alright. And the marbling was exquisite. Were there such fine deer in this strange forest? He poked it with his pinky finger. There didn’t seem to be any poison soaked in, either, at least none he recognized from Almyran experience or Fódlanese treatises. So then…?

And the coat. He hastily shrugged it on, finding relief in its softness. There was a thick layer of wool around the hood, and the coat itself was likely stuffed as well. It was cold as the ambient temperature, so it wasn’t like someone had recently forgotten this. No footprints either… what was going on?

As warmth finally spread through his body, he began to feel dizzy from hunger. He arranged the sticks as he’d read in travelers’ diaries, and attempted to light them by rubbing the sticks together. But his hands were too cold to generate enough friction—

A sudden spark sailed out of nowhere straight into the pile. Khalid fell back in surprise as the fire roared to life. The flames licking at his face was a massive relief, but that spark certainly hadn’t come from his own hands. The more puzzled he became, though, the more his nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

So he decided to let his body take control. He staked the meat on several boughs and set up his tent while they cooked. The rest was a blur—filling up with energy, feeling the warmth displacing the ice in his bones, falling asleep, someone tucking a blanket over him.

\---

“Did you really need to do that?” Jeralt mused, huddling around his own campfire with Byleth.

They shrugged, drying the leather skinned from the deer, though it wasn’t enough for anything more than a pair of gloves. “You said he’d freeze overnight if we didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, but…” Jeralt withheld a sigh and thought for a moment. “Yeah, I did. Good job.”

“Mm.” Byleth leaned into their dad’s side and wrapped his blanket around them both. “I liked his story.”

Jeralt stared up at the sky, stars mostly obscured by the forest canopy, to hide his smile. Byleth was still a kid, after all. “When did you learn basic dark magic, anyway? I’ve never seen you use it before.”

“When we were in Fhirdiad.”

“Not too long ago, then.”

The silence settled over them like a fresh blanket of snow. Jeralt watched Byleth take out the misshapen gold piece and dangle it fearlessly over the fire. As it very slightly began to soften, they tried to shape it with their other hand.

“You still have that thing? Watch your fingers.”

They nodded. “I wanted to make something of it.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Eventually they seemed satisfied with the odd shape they made, a hollow sort of cylinder. The fire still crackling at their feet, they both fell asleep, leaning together to share their warmth.

\---

Khalid awoke to find, of all things, bright blue berries and deep red currants arranged in what he slowly made out to be Fódlanese lettering: _NEXT STORY?_

Without hesitation he scooped them up and popped them into his mouth one by one, savoring their tart sweetness. What story had he just finished? He’d told the one about the lowly thief and the genie, the murder mystery with the apples, the magical cave with the secret password… If he were in the princess’s place he’d be dead by now. Maybe he’d make up a story?

Khalid packed his belongings, reoriented himself, and resumed his journey. Yesterday it’d taken him half a day to work up the courage to speak aloud in this unknown environment, but today he started off by calling out, “Hey! The princess has awoken. Are you ready for her next tale?”

Nothing but the wind playing with leafless branches answered him, but that was answer enough for him.

For ten days and nights he traveled like this: rattling off as many stories as he could possibly remember until he came upon some preordained rest stop for the evening, stocked with fresh game, dry branches, and the occasional leather trinket such as hunting gloves. In the morning there’d be fresh fruits, always arranged to ask: _NEXT STORY?_

Gradually though the vegetation became sparse, and signs of human activity increasingly marred the trees surrounding the path. According to his calculations, Derdriu was only a day away from the mouth of the forest. His journey was finally coming to an end.

 _Thank the stars_ , he thought. He imagined being swaddled in royal Rieganese blankets, drinking freshly brewed Leicester Cortania tea, being served a feast of Fódlanese cuisine…

He glanced all ways about him. He was alone. Yet he’d only made it this far because someone had been helping him. Who could it be? Would he ever see them for who they were?

“Hey,” he called out to the forest, slowing his pace as he caught sight of the light filtering in from the exit. “Who are you? Can I thank you for keeping me alive?”

A strange rustling sound, maybe just the wind again. Khalid stopped and set down his pack.

“If there’s any way I can repay you, please tell me.”

Silence. He hooked a finger along his silk mask, wishing desperately he could remove it. But the cold snapped at what little he had exposed, and he let go. “Tell me. Anything for a friend.”

\---

“Don’t you dare,” Jeralt murmured, placing a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Don’t forfeit the mission.”

“Dad, I…” Byleth’s gaze was fixed on the boy, waiting patiently on the path. “I feel like I know him.”

For the first time in recent memory, Byleth seemed upset. It was only the slightest of frowns, eyebrows barely crooked, but the expression was there. Yet they couldn’t have possibly encountered such a person in all their travels.

Then Byleth launched overhead the last of their food rations, a handful of Albinean berries and peach currants. Jeralt smacked his face—the kid needed their nutrients too, and yet here they were, literally throwing them to the wind—but remained silent as Byleth.

The boy shouted back, “Another story? Is that all? Let me think…”

They both let out a sigh of relief. Byleth sidled up to Jeralt’s side, suppressing a shiver, and closed their eyes. Jeralt wrapped an arm around them, deciding to listen along.

\---

“There once was a boy named Kha—Claude, who didn’t belong anywhere. His mother came from someplace far, far away where everything was different, so he himself grew up looking a little different and was bullied for it. His home didn’t feel very safe either, because he had lots of half-siblings and cousins whose parents said horrible stuff about him and his mother. So his mother ended up becoming quite cold to him. He always thought she wanted to protect him from their words. If he could grow to resist his own mother’s harm, then nobody in the whole world could ever hurt him.

“Around the age when boys start growing bigger and stronger very quickly, someone in his extended family tried to kill him. But he was smart and cool, so he fought and won. After that, though, nobody in the whole city would speak to him, and everybody ignored about the subsequent attempts on his life either. So he spent his days in his family’s library, reading ancient stories, learning scientific theory, and studying the land his mother came from.

“When Claude turned sixteen, his mother finally decided to send him away to her homeland. He couldn’t really say no, but he was afraid of going alone. Then a new friend appeared! Which was great, because honestly he probably would’ve died the first night without him. His friend clothed and fed him, and in exchange Claude told the best stories he knew. Some of them weren’t very good, but the friend seemed to like them anyway. They traveled together like this for a while, until it came time for them to part ways.

“Claude said, ‘This isn’t the end, is it? We’ll meet again?’

“And the friend, who was kind of the silent type, surprised him by saying, ‘Of course, Claude. Until we meet again.’

“And so Claude went off to conquer the world and tear down all its borders. That way, whenever he finally reunited with his friend, he could bring them to where he grew up and where all his stories came from. He’d obviously remind them to wear light clothing, since his homeland is very hot and dry, and they’d eat lots of good food together, and… Sorry! That wasn’t a very good story at all, was it?”

Silence greeted him, and Khalid—no, Claude laughed to himself. “Yeah, I know it was. But… Thank you, my friend. I mean it. Let’s meet again someday!”

Claude prepared to set off again when a glint of metal caught his eye. Instinctively he caught it like he would a stray arrow, but when he opened his palm there was a tiny gold bead. Though it was plain and unadorned, it reminded him of the beads his people would fit onto the ends of their braids. He smiled at the memory. Maybe he could refine the bead a bit and use it for his own hair.

He waved his gift in the air in case his guardian was watching, before slipping it into his pocket and taking his final steps toward the forest exit. He’d made it out alive and with renewed conviction. It wasn’t enough to save himself, or even to take over the Leicester Alliance. He had a new dream, now, and he hoped someday his secret friend would be a part of it.

\---

“…Did you like his last story?” Jeralt gently nudged Byleth, who remained pensive. A small pang of regret passed through him. Because of his wandering lifestyle, Byleth had never been able to make friends.

Slowly, Byleth rose to their feet. Jeralt stood beside them, hefting their belongings onto each shoulder.

Then, they spoke very softly: “I hope it comes true.”

Jeralt was startled for a moment, before reaching down to ruffle their hair. “I hope so too, kid. Let’s go.”

And off they went in search of their next mission, wondering if their stories might ever cross paths again.

**Author's Note:**

> btw the irl references for khalid's stories are (in order) Scheherazade, Aladdin, The Three Apples, & Ali Baba. thanks for reading & find me on twitter @deltacapricorn \o/ stay warm folks!


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